Title: Summer Heat
Disclaimer: The characters and concepts of "Roswell" belong to Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, and 20th Century Fox. They are not mine and no infringement is intended.
Pairings: Michael/Liz
Rating: Adult (NC-17)

Warning: Sexual Situations

Summary: Drabble/vignette series from prompts given to me by my betas. Post Grad. After ending her train wreck of a relationship with Max, Liz disappears in the middle of the night unaware that she has someone following her. Prompts are Tease, Taunt, Smolder, Ignite, Burn and Combust.

Tease

Wilting under the oppressive heat of a late summer heatwave, she slumped against the counter pressing an ice-cold bottle of water against her neck and let out an annoyed sigh, cursing the cheap super for the lack of air conditioning in the current hellhole she and Michael were living in this year. Who ever heard of having no air conditioning in the Deep South?

The hot humid air wrapped around her, clinging to her sweltering skin like a wet blanket as she sunk lower, resting her forehead against the blue Formica laminate, molasses strands damply pasted to her flushed cheeks.

Panting shallowly, Liz drew the thick, soupy air into her lungs with difficulty and shuddered slightly when drops of condensation fell from her water bottle, the icy liquid sliding over her neck. Breathing a sigh of relief at the subtle respite, she couldn't help but wonder where her wayward roommate had wandered off to this time.

When they first met, she would have laughed if someone told her that Michael would be the alien whom she was closest to and that they'd end up roommates. But here she was, sharing another sweltering New Orleans summer with the cranky alien after cutting ties with the group two years prior.

Protecting the group yet again, this time from the cold wall of silence that had built between Max and herself, she packed her bags and left in the dead of night without explanation, planting false evidence behind to keep them from tracking her down. She figured her plan was fool proof and would lead the others astray.

She was wrong and unbeknownst to her; she didn't leave alone that night.

The stool shifted beneath her, drawing her out of her thoughts as the damp vinyl sucked at her clammy thighs and she searched for a comfortable position to no avail. The heat radiated over her skin in waves, matting her shirt and shorts to her frame. It was hell. That's all there is to it – she died and was in the seventh level of purgatory. It was the only thing that explained this blistering heat.

What she needed was ice – lots and lots of beautiful, cooling ice. Now if only she actually had the energy to get off the stool and fetch said ice. Maybe she can do it with her powers.

"Lazy much, Parker?" Michael cracked, chuckling under his breath when she lifted a limp hand and flipped him off. Leaning against the counter, his caramel eyes drifted over the expanse of her mostly bare back lazily, taking in the faint sheen of sweat on smooth golden skin. God those little tops were going to be the death of him this summer. "Someone's moody."

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Liz tilted her head slightly to look up at her best friend and glared at him balefully while he continued to chuckle and she pressed the water bottle to her the other side of her neck, trying to ease more of her heated skin.

"You know what we need?" he whispered, leaning over to press his lips near her ear, almost missing the shiver that coursed through her body as his breath fanned over the curve of her ear. Almost. Smirking smugly at her response, he trailed a finger down one shoulder, over her arm, watching her breath hitch slightly. "A swim."

"No suits," she replied listlessly, shuddering yet again when he came up behind her, his slick bared chest hovering over her back, adding a whole new level of heat to her already fevered skin. Damn him, did he have to be so close?

"Who says we need them?" he breathed, his low, husky chuckle teasing her ear and let his comment dangle enticingly for a minute as her cheeks flushed a deeper pink. Good to know he's not the only one fighting the attraction between them. "Just put on a tank and your jog shorts and I have my boxers. It's close enough."

"I'm not getting into a pool full of kids with you dressed like that," she grumbled, prying her head off the counter to meet his heated gaze, inadvertently pressing her back into his chest, a different fire coursing through her veins at contact. Hissing under her breath as their skin slid together, she smirked slightly when an answering gasp passed his lips.

She knew they were playing with fire – but what a delicious way to burn.

"I have something else in mind," he smirked, rising up slowly, purposely dragging callused fingers over her spine, drawing another shiver over her body. Yeah, he was just asking for it today, but was beyond caring, having stifled his desire for this woman for years. Smoldering brandy irises slid over her back once more. It would only take a slight flick of hand and that handkerchief she had the nerve to call a top would be a memory.

But everything has its place and time – he could wait her out.

"What's that?" she queried, cocking her brow as she turned on the stool to face him, gasping when her movement sent more condensation dripping over her neck and chest. She quirked her lips as he watched the water droplets slide over her skin, licking his lips unconsciously. Setting her water bottle down, she closed her eyes, tipping her head back and 'innocently' pressed chilled, wet fingers to her throat, sliding them over her skin, sighing as they brought her searing skin some relief.

She smiled, his pained grunt music to her ears – hook, line and sinker.

"That's my secret," he smiled smugly seeing her ploy for what it was and eyes sparkling devilishly, he strode forward, crowding her into the counter, placing his hands on each side of her caging her in. Meeting darkened chocolate eyes, her shallow breaths fanning over his chest, sending gooseflesh dancing across his skin, he watched as she shifted back subtly, trembling fingers gripping the stool. "Scared, Parker?"

So she wanted to play games? She forgot he was the master at this kind of play.

"Not at all," she huffed, her dark eyes sparking as they traveled over the toned chest, wanting to reach out flick her tongue over each rippling muscle, suck in the sweet, salty, golden skin laid so temptingly before her. Ripping her mesmerized gaze away from him, she slipped from her perch on the stool, purposely brushing against him, loving his sharp intake of breath as she passed. "I'll just go change and we'll go."

Two can play this game, she smirked, adding the slightest undulation to her hips as she walked out the door.

"Don't keep me waiting, Parker," Michael murmured huskily, not bothering to hide the double entendre as he watched her saunter out the door, body tightening at the subtle sway of hips. Drawing the thick air into burning lungs, he stared at the door moodily, groaning when he heard her answering call down the hallway.

"Wouldn't dream of it Guerin!"

Eyes slamming shut, he moaned at the lilting promise that danced through her teasing words and clenched his fists to keep himself from stalking down the hall, throwing her over his shoulder and dragging her off to his room. As tempting as the thought was, he had a plan and timing was everything. He didn't want to tip his hand just yet.

Fighting the rising heat coursing through his blood, he opened fiery whiskey eyes as he listened to the slight rustle of her getting ready and vowed that tonight, nothing and no one was going to stop him from making her his.